


This Mortal Coil

by ljames54



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Falling In Love, Family, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending (I think), Hiding, Is this enough tags?, Little bit of smut, Love, M/M, Mystery, Newt POV, Running Away, Secrets, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tension, canon names, compassionate Newt, mentions of depression, newt still has his leg injury, philosophical Newt, work in progress so it's probably not perfect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljames54/pseuds/ljames54
Summary: Isaac Newton lives his life like any other normal teenager. Following a family tragedy that occurred four years ago, the time he's shared on this earth with his friends and loved ones has been more than he could have asked for.When he learns about a recent missing person, the coming days challenge his comfortable way of life and resurface a lot of buried memories, causing him to question his very being. Old friendships will be tested and new ones will bloom before he can find the right answers.(Or the one where Thomas runs away from home and Newt takes care of him.)**Work-In-Progress (read notes)This work's previous title was 'Lost'





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so first off this work is very much a massive WIP and is definitely not being beta'd. That said, a lot of things aren't gonna be perfect and things are probably gonna keep changing such as the title, the extra characters, plot/story, etc. etc.  
> I just sorta decided to start working on this as a short story, as it is inspired from an IRL situation. Don't know how long this will be, but I guess we'll find out together! :P
> 
> P.S; I've never written Maze Runner fic before, let alone any Newtmas, but I have seen the films (not the books, sadly) and I'm in love with both of the characters. So, excuse any mistakes, if there even is any. :p

Jovial birdsongs pierced a crisp autumn air, remarking excitedly at the movement of a falling leaf or the sound of its crunch. Winter was bordering around the corner, leaving a harsh iciness on even the most concealed of individuals. It was beginning to look a lot like that putrid curse, where no matter what you did to keep warm there was always a freezing chill biting at your bones. You could never get comfortable, always squirmed in your seat, shuffling your legs constantly in the hope that the rush of blood would warm your body.

Some people found their own ways to deal with it, whilst others put on a tough face and acted as if it didn’t affect them. For a certain Isaac ‘Newt’ Newton (yes, blame his parents for his given name), his own solution was to just keep on moving; to keep the blood flowing, to give him something to do and to think about. It was also one of the only things that helped keep the old injury in his leg at ease; that of which was particularly bothering him on this day. The pre-winter chill was even worse than usual, and it was stinging at the usual dull ache in his leg. Keeping it moving however, was making the pain tolerable, so he planned to take as long as possible on his walk back home from school.

He took a different route than usual, going through several different neighborhoods, trying to admire the hidden beauty amidst the unforgiving brittle air. The leaves lying at his feet made a satisfying crunch whenever he took a step, paving the way in front of him. If he hadn’t of walked this way before, he would almost certainly be lost amidst the hundreds of brown leaves scattered everywhere.

Newt kept his eyes trailed on the ground as he strode on; fastening his bag more tightly around his shoulders. Every so often he looked up to make sure he was going the right way, before looking back to the ground again. He enjoyed the serenity of blocking out everything around him; focusing on one particular thing that kept his mind away from the surrounding insanity of the world. Life, to Newt, was much simpler that way, and it was easier to control the thoughts inside his head without everything getting in the way.

That still didn’t stop him from walking into the poor woman that had appeared in front of him, however. She stumbled against his rhythmic pace, causing Newt to have to reach out and grab her to ensure she didn’t fall over. The two of them sputtered apologies at each other, before Newt realized she’d been carrying a bunch of what looked like flyers which were now strewn all across the pavement. He knelt on his good leg to help gather them back up, but his brow furrowed as he caught a glimpse of one of the papers.

It was a missing person poster, complete with almost every little detail Newt could think of. He stared at it idly, flipping it over as if to expect something written on the back. “Who is this?” he said automatically, looking up at the woman. Almost as if Newt had said something insulting, she threw him a disgusted look and snatched the paper out of his hand.

“That’s my _son!_ ” she barked, her eyes visibly watering before she sped off. Newt mentally slapped himself and grimaced at how stupid he could possibly be. He watched as the woman disappeared down the street, her wavy brunette hair flashing in the sunlight, before getting up and looking around him, hoping that no one else had witnessed the encounter to save him from more embarrassment.

Newt noticed another one of the posters pinned to a telephone pole, near where he’d bumped into the woman. He closely examined it this time, making sure to know everything he could about this woman’s son so that he wouldn’t say another stupid thing. The teenager appeared to have run away from his home a week ago, and looked to be around the same age as Newt. He had short hair but was a brunette like his mother, with a well-rounded face that blended finely with his other features. In the photo he was wearing a cheesy white smile, seemingly laughing, and Newt wondered how someone who seemed so genuinely cheerful could have possibly run away.

Although he’d never seen the teen before, Newt could almost say he recognized him. There was an unspoken knowledge to this guy that Newt couldn’t put his finger on, and to be honest, it scared him. It scared him to know that somewhere out there was a kid his age wandering the streets on his own. The empathetic side crawled out of him like an infection, hoping to god that the boy was still alive and well. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for people, especially those he didn’t know, because he knew deep down that there was nothing he could do to truly help them. He was, after all, merely a high school student.

Newt scanned the poster for any additional information before continuing on home, his leg starting to annoy him again. His eyes rested on a name: _Stephen Thomas_.

He made a note all the same.


	2. II

Newt made it home a lot later than usual, having taken an additional detour to give himself some extra time to think about what had happened that evening. He later came to regret it, however, his leg now aching irritably not from the cold, but by the superfluous amount of walking he’d just done. He decided to run himself a hot shower to melt away the icy chill, and to calm his leg somewhat, ignoring his mother’s interrogation as to where he’d been.

Almost moaning at the contact of searing hot water, he stepped head-first into the spray, reveling in the blanket of heat enveloping him. He didn’t care that it was too hot; he just cared about the distraction. To set his mind and body at ease was too easy a blessing.

Nevertheless, he still didn’t spend too long in there, stepping out merely once the cold had escaped him, not bothering to wash his hair or soap himself down. Newt looked at the lobster red version of himself in the mirror, chuckling silently to himself at the image. Stroking back his blonde hair, he inspected his face for any impurities, noticing for once in his life that it was as clear as it had ever been.

An open-mouthed smirk grew along one of the corners of his mouth, appreciating the sight in front of him. Self-appreciation was one of Newt’s finest traits. He tried not to practice it _too_ often, but when he did, it was for all the right reasons. He made sure of that.

His mother was waiting for him outside the bathroom the minute he exited, persistence prying under her tongue. Newt mentally rolled his eyes at the sight; at least, he thought he did. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me young man! Do you know what time it is? Do you remember what we agreed on?” she barked.

Newt knew she wouldn’t stop asking different variations of the same questions until he answered her. “Last I checked it was quarter to five, Mom.” he replied, waving her off as he tried to escape to his room. Alas, his mother remained in hot pursuit.

“Well, it’s 5:23 right now!” she retorted, looking at her watch. “It doesn’t take nearly two hours for one to walk home from school, which I may remind you is only eight blocks away from here!”

“You may very well _not_ remind me, thanks.”

“And what happened to our agreement?” she continued, ignoring him. “Five o’clock, on the dot, that I expected you through that door by?”

“Good thing I came in through the back door, then!” sassed Newt.

“ _Isaac!_ ”

Newt sighed in defeat, opening his door but standing in the frame, staring at the disordered state of his room, knowing all too well that hiding himself inside wouldn’t end the conversation. “I took a detour.” he said truthfully, gazing at his bed. “My leg was playing up.”

“Oh, God, just great. And now there’s your old injury to worry about.” she went on, staring up at the ceiling as if she was actually addressing the Heavens. “Damn it, Isaac, you give an old woman the fear of an early grave!”

At this, Newt turned around, grabbing his mother’s hands and placing them on his cheeks. “Do you feel this? This is the feeling of your _son_ , alive and well and still bloody breathing. As far as _I’m_ concerned, that’s all that _you_ should be concerned about. A’right?” Newt attempted a reassuring smile, hoping it would get through to her. Slowly but surely, as if she was putting together the pieces, her face turned into a hesitant smile, as if she was still uncertain.

“You have the power to move mountains, dear. Don’t you ever forget that.” she said, freeing one of her hands from Newt’s cheek and stroking his hair.

Newt furrowed his brow, utterly confused, earning a look of amusement from his mother. “You’re suddenly not mad, now?”

She answered by pulling him into a hug. Newt returned the gesture, a feeling of relief flooding through his body that he didn’t know he needed. “Of course I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you, Isaac. I just… ever since your father-”

“Stop.” Newt cut her off, breaking the hug and resting his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want to hear it.”

She sighed heavily, looking down past her son into some far-off distance. She grabbed his hands and held them tightly in her own. “You’re right… as long as I know you’re alright, then…”

“Mom.” Newt said amusingly, smiling at his sob-story of a mother. “I may only be seventeen, but I can be pretty resourceful. I can take care of myself.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “Oh, Isaac, the day you say you can take care of yourself is when you’re walking out of that door for good. _But,_ ” she added, as Newt opened his mouth to speak. “I’m proud of you nonetheless.”

They both smiled at each other for an indefinite amount of time, before she suddenly looked down and let out a small gasp, releasing Newt’s hands. “I think you better.. um.. get dressed..” she said, giggling as she briskly turned to walk away.

Newt looked down and noticed his towel had slipped from his waist, his face going redder than it was when he had come out of the shower.

 

~

 

After Newt had composed himself from yet another dose of embarrassment, he changed into some oversized sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, idling himself in front of his laptop to check his various messages. Minho was asking him if he was going to the coming Halloween party, whilst Teresa was nagging him to see if he’d made any progress with his English assignment.

Newt had an interesting circle of friends, those of which he knew he couldn’t do without. Okay, _interesting_ was an understatement, but he was glad he had them nonetheless. Minho was that one ‘ _party freak_ ’, who was always out there and getting into all kinds of trouble; and Teresa was like his adopted sister, but she was almost as bad as his mother sometimes. He smiled in amusement, remembering the numerous times the pair had been at each other’s throats, fighting about their disagreements. But Newt was always there to intervene; got them to reconcile for the day and settle it in their own time.

He wondered if _he_ was a good friend… _he_ had good friends, sure. But, what was good about him to the others? What was it that they saw in _him_? Newt shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Thinking like that was dangerous. Instead he opened the tab to his group chat, which was lighting up as usual. Newt didn’t pay much attention to the messages; just sad idly reading them, laughing at the odd jokes and jabs to the other people, unknowingly inhaling the welcoming smell of dinner seeping in from underneath his door.

Then the whole atmosphere changed, Newt travelling back several hours earlier to when he bumped into the woman carrying the posters. Teresa had posted the exact same image of the missing person poster into the group chat, earnestly asking everyone in it if they had seen the teenager and to keep an eye out. Newt sat there, dazed for a few minutes, trying to figure out what was happening. Who was this guy, exactly? How did Teresa know him, if she even knew him at all?

“ _Isaac! Dinner’s ready!_ ” called his mother. Newt groaned in annoyance. Talk about timing.

He wanted to say something in the group chat first, but he knew it wouldn’t go much better than how the missing kid’s mother reacted earlier. He instead opened up his message tab to Gally, one of his best friends, and chose his words carefully.

_Newt: hey gally, do you know who this kid is? I saw one of these posters today on the walk home, but I’ve never seen him before_

Newt attached the image Teresa had sent to the group chat, and waited for a reply. Fortunately, Gally didn’t take long in responding.

 _Gally: hey greenie_ – _no idea_

Newt sighed in relief, thankful that it wasn’t just him. He waited for the next message Gally was typing.

 _Gally:_ _I think his family’s new in town- seem to remember them asking about what local shops and services there are, and if there’s anything interesting to do around here_

_Gally: pfft. not that there really *is* anything to do. haha_

_Newt: lol. fair point. how do you know about what they were asking?_

_Gally. lol, you should really join up with the local community group, greenie. you’d learn a lot from there_

_Newt: shut up shuckface. i just haven’t ever really bothered to_

_Gally: it takes like two clicks of your mouse, shank. just fuckn do it already_

_Newt: alright lol, fine. i’ll do it after dinner_

_Gally: good- ‘bout time you did something I told you to_

_Newt: shut up you buggin’ idiot. i’ll talk later_

_Gally: later, greenie ;)_

Damn it. Gally loved taunting him, but so did Newt. They’d been doing it ever since childhood. Ever since he injured his leg, Gally was always there for him. He didn’t know what he’d do without the shank, to be honest.

“ _Isaac! Come on, now!_ ” called his mother again.

“ _I’ll be out in a sec!_ ” he yelled back. Newt could have sworn he heard his mother sigh from in his room, but he wagered he was just imagining it. He wanted to go a little further, first; wanting to find out a bit more about this _Stephen Thomas_ guy and his family. How could all of this have happened right under his nose? Not that Newt knew _everything_ and _everyone_ , but he knew a majority of the people that lived in this small town; especially any of the significant things that happened surrounding them.

Newt loaded up the community page Gally mentioned, and noticed his request to join had to be approved by an admin. _That’d be buggin’ right_ , thought Newt. He sent a join request the instant his mother opened the bedroom door and peered around it, a clearly irritated look on her face.

“ _Newt!_ ”

“Alright, I’m coming!” he snapped, waving his hands up in defeat.

“So it takes me calling you by your friends’ nickname, for you to actually listen to me?” she said, a smirk appearing on her face. Newt looked up at her, confused for a second, before going red for the fourth time that evening. “I’ll have to remember that.” she winked as she disappeared from behind his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written text/social media messages into any sort of fiction before, so hopefully I've portrayed it alright! :)
> 
> More to come. x


	3. III

Newt miraculously forgot about the missing teenager as the following week continued, his schoolwork beginning to pile on top of his desk, taking his mind away from most trivial concerns. He wasn’t an A-grade student, to be certain, but he did take his classes seriously.

One evening he decided to start changing up his pattern, getting home as soon as he could and then going out for a run before dark. See, even though Newt’s leg harbored a near unrecoverable wound, he didn’t let it get in his way. He _loved_ running, ever since he was a kid. He would always be off, always sneaking out of the house when no one was looking, and just chasing whatever it was that plagued his curiosity.

As Newt grew up alongside his injury, he began to learn that the only cure for it was to keep on moving. To him, it didn’t matter where; just so long as it was _somewhere_. Down the street, to the park… even the whole buggin’ world if he had to. His only cure, to put it simply, was freedom. The ultimate way out; the answer to life’s greatest secrets… to just get out there and experience the world, to unravel its mysteries. There was surely nothing greater than the world that waited out there before him.

“You’re such a dreamer, Newt.” Teresa had told him time and time again, whenever he had tranced off into some daydream. Alright, so Newt was a _little_ philosophical. But it’s one of the few things that kept him sane… thinking about the great old world out there, not just on Earth, but beyond the stars and even further.

He wished he would find someone else to share it all with. Someone who meant much more to him than Teresa or Minho; even Gally, if it came to it, but Gally already meant too much to him to just leave behind…

Damn it, Newt could never work it all out. Why could life never just formulate an answer for you? Perhaps you would have to actually go insane just to figure it out, and even then you still wouldn’t know.

 

~

 

_‘My head spins, I’ve been sipping,_

_I’ve been sipping, I’ve been sipping lately’_

Newt adjusted his earphones as he started out on another run, basking in the bliss that it was the finally the weekend. He’d polished off a large portion of his schoolwork today, and had decided that his reward was to get out into what was left of his Saturday.

 The setting sun cast a dreamy glow over the surrounding neighborhood, the weather thankfully not as cold today. Newt began at a slow speed, matching his pace to his heartbeat, his body routinely taking him wherever his mind wanted to go. In no time at all he was already passing by houses with ease, his feet in sync with a steady rhythm. He reveled at the feel of the refreshing cool air whipping his face, stinging his eyes as he kept running forward. An absent danger lurked in the back of his head, reminding him that there was no easy way of stopping if he suddenly needed to, but he ignored it and let his legs automatically carry his now seemingly weightless body.

Down the main street; left at the intersection; pass into a suburban alleyway. Newt loved every second of it, and were it not for his leg he’d have thought he was meant to do this all his life. Something felt eerily out of place this evening as he kept running, as if there was a memory long forgotten, but he continued on with the absent hope of finding it.

_‘Brand new life, I’ve been looking,_

_I’ve been looking, I’ve been looking lately’_

The pace decreased a little once Newt found himself going up a minor slope, before he realized where his legs were taking him. He managed to pause for a minute, catching his breath and confirming with himself whether he was able to make it to the top, but some invisible force was pulling him upward to the top of the hill, eager to find out what was up there. Newt gave in to his body in the end, allowing his legs to careen him just a little further. He, too, wanted to know what was up the top of the hill.

The road he was on grew progressively rugged the further he continued up the hill, before it inevitably turned into a dirt track that looked merely suitable for bikers. _How have I never seen this track, before?_ Newt pondered for a moment before considering his chances; he didn’t often explore his town since he already knew most of what was there, but this… this track seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. How could he have been so ignorant?

_‘I am just a man, I am just a man,_

_Who lusts, gives, tries,_

_Sometimes I lose my way’_

A thick brush seemed to grow on either side of the track as he progressed; spontaneous trees sprouting out and lining the shape of an archway overhead. It if hadn’t of been autumn, Newt was positive that this track would have been beautiful. Instead, nearly all of the leaves had left their respected trees, leaving them naked, skinny and ominously out of place. It was hard to mistake the looming onset of winter by this point, and at this thought Newt felt a stark chill go down his spine; suddenly feeling colder even though his body was heated from the exercise.

He noticed a clearing up ahead, and for some reason felt relief knowing he would be out of the vegetation surrounding him. There was something… no, Newt knew he would be paranoid if he let that thought get to him. Instead he mustered the energy to sprint the last few meters into the clearing, stopping in disbelief as the view before him captured his focus.

_‘Tears at a funeral, tears at funeral, I might break’_

It was his hometown: every single inch of it. The same damn place he grew up in; the same damn place he acquired his injury in. The same damn place he… he forgot about the missing boy. _Oh, fuck. Of course it is._ Newt stared at the sheer size of the town below him, a nameless tear appearing in his eye. He rubbed it, confused, before looking back at the scene below him.

It was much, much smaller than he thought it was. He always spent so much time walking home lately, so much time focused on therapizing his leg that it always felt _so huge_. Like the seemingly endless walks in and around the town, prolonging his return home, made it seem so much bigger than it actually was. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ _How could I be so stupid?_ But Newt wasn’t stupid. He knew that. He was just confused… why? Why did he come up here?

_‘Angry at all the things, angry at all the things, I can’t change’_

Something felt off. So distant and yet so close that he was struggling to put a finger on it; like that itch that you can never itch, or that lost memory that you can never recall. Newt, for the first time in his life, on the top of this mysterious hill, felt… alone. Isolated. Left behind. And he just didn’t know why. He took a few anxious steps forward, as if getting a better view of the town would reveal more of it. Nothing changed.

Newt took out his earphones, paused his music and tried to focus. He felt a cool breeze brush his face, the sound whistling in his ear. A rustling noise then caught his attention as a small whirlwind of leaves flew in front of him, before he settled on the low resonance of some distant traffic. He took a deep breath; in through his nose, and out through his mouth, practicing the same breathing exercise he’d learned all those years ago, before his injury. He was starting to calm.

Whatever it was that had triggered him, whatever sorcery this was, it was passing… but the oncoming peace felt oddly artificial. As if the thought of him being alone was the most peaceful thing he’d ever imagined. _Something isn’t right. This isn’t… this isn’t right. No. I need to get out of here._ Newt didn’t know what he was declining, but it felt right… like there was some sort of evil luring him with a dark temptation. He refused it, eager to get back home and forget he ever came here.

He placed one earphone back in and began playing the music again, eager for a distraction. As he made to turn around back the way he came, his eyes drifted over the town once more; a strange feeling of happiness coming over him, laced also with sorrow, as if he would never see the sight again. He found himself smiling nonetheless, and began a starting sprint back down the hilltop.

_When you're lost in the universe, lost in the universe, don't lose faith_

Newt had made it no more than several feet when he noticed yet another odd sensation, although this one was much more realistic. He slowed his pace and looked up, feeling eyes watching him, and almost let out a scream had it not been for his self-control.

_My mother says, “Your whole life’s in the hand of God”_

“Thomas?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! Was planning on making this chapter longer but I didn't want to leave you all hanging for much longer. More to come soon! x
> 
> The lyrics of the song Newt listens to are from "Hand of God" by Jon Bellion.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a longer one today. Enjoy ;)

Newt remembers all the times he’s been scared. All the times he’s been afraid of something, or someone. They’ve all been for the right reasons, but some of the memories haunt him still. He remembers the thrill of being on his first rollercoaster, pulling a face like a scared Malfoy from Harry Potter; and on his first trip to the dentist, the sound of those drills buzzing and the metal picks scraping at his teeth, with that eerie-ass Doctor looming over him. Oh, yeah, Newt remembers what it’s like to be scared alright, so it’s not rocket science for him to figure out when someone _else_ is.

So when he miraculously encounters the mysterious missing _Stephen Thomas_ , out here in the woods near the top of this strange, never before noticed hill, he remembers _exactly_ what it felt like. Because this boy’s face is showing those exact same emotions, and as soon as Newt speaks his name in disbelief, the shock settles in. Newt can practically sense the teen’s adrenaline from where he’s standing; almost swears he can feel his heartbeat pounding through the ground. It takes less than a second – a blink of an eye – before one of them makes the first move, and for the first time in a long while, Newt is properly scared, too.

But the guy doesn’t rush at Newt. He doesn’t try to tackle him, like he for some reason thought he would; he doesn’t try to eliminate any witnesses to his existence. No. Instead, he turns around, and runs. He runs faster than Newt can even call his name, and before he’s fully aware of it, Newt realizes he’s running, too. He doesn’t know why; just that he needs to keep within eyesight of this boy. _To make sure he’s alive. To make sure he’s safe._

The whole moment seems oddly reminiscent, as if it’s been pulled straight from a movie. In no time at all, Newt is already ducking and weaving in-between trees and out of place boulders, jumping over fallen branches and sliding down piles of leaves as he pursues the teen down the descent. _What is this, Mission Impossible?_ He can feel his leg starting to scream, ache and writhe in pain, but he ignores it, his heart hell-bent on chasing this boy until he stopped running - if he ever even would. Once or twice he tumbled and gained a few scratches, but he picked himself back up with minimal effort and remained in hot pursuit. As far as Newt was concerned it was a fairly level playing field, but he didn’t slow down one bit. He knew that if he did… Newt didn’t even want to think about it.

Even still, he could feel his frustration growing. How long was this going to last? Wait, no, screw _that_ question – _Why the hell am I chasing this guy?_ Newt already knew the answer; of course he did. But now, as he kept on running… he started to wonder if he needed to. Before he had a chance to think about it, he finally noticed that the boy was no longer in sight. He slowed down, steadying himself with one hand on a nearby tree as he doubled over, coughing up dry air at the amount of bloody _running_ he’d just done. He glanced up and around him whilst he regained his composure, straining for any sight or sound of the teen, finding… nothing. There was nothing. _God damn it_. It probably didn’t help that he was trying to focus over the sound of his own breathing and his irregularly beating heart, all whilst trying not to pass out. He hadn’t run like that in a long time. Not since-

“ _ARGH!_ ”

Something heavy and solid rammed into Newt’s side, blowing all the remaining wind out of him and forcing him to the ground. He didn’t bother resisting as he was occupied with gasping for air, instead gripping on to whatever ran into him as a way of grounding himself. He squinted through the pain in his lungs, trying to center his vision on the figure on top of him. Wait… _Something’s on top of me. Who the hell?..._

At first, all Newt could hear were muffled sounds; his heart pounding in his ears. He forced himself to try and focus, the sounds becoming clearer.

“Who the hell are you?! Are you some private detective!?” the voice screamed at him.

Newt opened his mouth to try and speak, but all that came out were gasps and strained groans of pain. He could feel that this person, whoever they were, was pinning him down, since he felt a certain pressure on his arms relax a little when he notably tried to speak.

“Who _are_ you?!” the voice asked again, ever so slightly calmer but still full with frustration. “Why are you out here?!”

Newt hoped the racket would attract the attention of a passer-by, but in all honesty he had no idea where the hell he now was, and by this point he’d had enough. He knew that there was no getting out of this mess without some sort of action on his part. He’d just ran god knows how far, and had suddenly been winded by what seemed like a fucking tank. He needed.. Newt needed… he needed air. He needed to breathe.

With one last burst of adrenaline, he forced his right leg into the backside of the person on top of him, staggering them and giving him the opportunity to push them off. “Get _off_ me!” he managed to splutter as he made to get up, but as soon as he did he doubled over again, rolling onto his front and propping himself up with both hands. Gripping his stomach violently, he felt that familiar tingling on his tongue, that warning at the back of his throat, before he finally lost control and let his guts empty onto the ground before him.

He paused for a minute, thirsty for air, reveling in the sudden lightness in both his head and his stomach. He felt… good. Almost at peace. Like there wasn’t a care in the world. The ground came to meet him again as his arms submitted, letting the feeling overwhelm him, before plunging into… nothing.

Newt felt nothing.

 

~

 

He was in a forest. Falling. Seemingly running, but falling at the same time; as if gravity had been mutated and was now horizontally aligned. He tried his best to avoid the vegetation appearing before him, but he seemed to be attracted to them like magnets; hitting each one with the force of a truck. He wondered when it would end; wondered how long it would take to reach the bottom… or the border of the forest, as it seemed. It was a hollow curse, obviously meant to torture him.

But Newt just couldn’t figure out why.

A strange sound began to resonate around him, but any attempts at locating its source proved to be hopeless. Slowly the sound grew louder… and clearer. _Music_. He was falling toward… music? He tried to make out the lyrics, but every time he came close to recognizing it he hit another damned piece of greenery as he continued, of course, to fall.

Just as he thought he caught the trace of a word, he noticed something ahead of him. His whole body suddenly stopped, gravity rearranging itself to its rightful position. He squinted through the trees, trying to get a closer look at the distant figure, ultimately realizing it was getting smaller. Now he’d started running at it, but no matter what progress he made the figure just grew more distant, until at last it was gone. Lost in an echo.

He bent over in frustration, catching a breath he didn’t know he had… or needed… when he heard a heavy pounding coming right toward him, causing the ground to shake. Looking up just in time, he noticed a tall, well-built brunette teenager rushing at him; hands closed in tight fists with a mixed look of fear and determination on his face, clearly showing no intent of slowing down. Before he had a chance to react, the boy had already latched onto him, driving him into the ground as it opened up around him.

Falling. He was falling again.

 

~

 

Newt woke with a start, immediately trying to make sense of his surroundings. Dozens of thoughts and memories flashed through his mind, each one more confusing than the last. _What the hell happened?_ He made to sit up, but something in his head was screaming no. _Just wait_. Reluctantly, he complied with the thoughts, and as he lay _patiently_ on the ground staring at the darkening sky above, the gravity of the warning suddenly kicked in.

A number of lights danced across his eyes as he held his head in pain, a searing throbbing rushing through it. He groaned with a mixture of annoyance and agony, the rest of his body’s nervous system kicking in. His leg felt as though there were needles inside of it, whilst his left hip-bone he feared was awfully bruised; and it didn’t take long for him to figure out why. Someone had _tackled_ him. Buggin’ hell, no wonder his mother never wanted him to play football. And Newt wasn’t even _wearing_ any protective gear.

At this thought his senses suddenly kicked in; his reserves of adrenaline getting ready to activate once more. Whoever had tackled him was likely still nearby, and Newt wasn’t about to let it happen twice. He balled his fists and planned to get up in one smooth, fluid motion, before his ears then started working and he heard it. _Music_.

Newt nonchalantly felt around for his phone or his earphones, finding neither of them. Confused, he decided to sit up to investigate his surroundings; one arm supporting him and the other holding his head as if it would fall apart any second. Within two seconds he found the source of the music, and everything part of him just froze. The same, brunette teenager from his dream – the same one from the fucking missing person poster – was hunched up against a tree, his knees raised in front of him. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed Newt, instead fixating his gaze on what was unmistakably Newt’s phone, which was still playing his buggin’ music playlist.

Embarrassment flooded him for a split second ( _Which of my buggin’ playlist did he hear?_ ), before reality then stepped in and a genuine _what-the-fuck_ moment took hold. Regardless, Newt was lost for words. He sat there, gawking at this handsom- er, _weirdo_ of a boy – yes, that’s it – who was so casually sitting against a tree, listening to Newt’s music. _And yet you’re the one staring at him_. Newt shook his head, instantly regretting the decision as it felt like his brain just bounced around inside of it, making him squint and grunt in pain again.

“You right?” Newt froze again, still squinting. _Did he say something? No, no… that was definitely my imagination…_ “Isaac?” At this, Newt looked up. _He knows my name. He knows my fucking-_ the brunette was holding his phone. Realization dawned on Newt as he looked up again at the darkening sky. _Shuck. How long have I been gone?_ “Hey,” The brunette’s voice brought him back down to Earth. He braved a look at the boy, waiting for him to say or do something intimidating. Instead, he just looked somber – a mixture of guilt, minor annoyance and something else… something Newt for some reason didn’t want to see on the teen’s face. _Are_ you _okay?_

“I- um, yeah. I think I’m alright…” It wasn’t a _total_ lie. Sure, Newt was in pain, but he hadn’t tried walking yet. The brunette just sighed, looking down at Newt’s phone again. This time it was pure guilt on his face. God damn, that expression would have been easy to spot a mile away. Newt suddenly focused on the song that was playing, an eerie sense of calm washing over him.

_‘Not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree_

_Saying nothing, that's enough for me_ ’

“I’m sorry.” started the brunette. Newt must have had confusion written all over his face, as the teen started chuckling when he looked up again. “Christ, did I really hit you _that_ hard? I’m sorry, I just- I guess I panicked.” _That’s an understatement – shut up, Newt!_ “The last thing I expected was to be running into someone. That’s the last thing I _need_ , right now. People chasing after me.” he said the last few words with a bitter tone in his voice, as if the people chasing him were ten times worse than Newt chasing him.

“What are you doing out here?” asked Newt, completely ignoring the fact that the brunette had just confessed to tackling the absolute shit out of him.

“What does it matter.” he stated with the same, bitter tone. “I’m here, I’m queer. No one should care, right?” Hang on. He’s here, he’s _what?_ “I never asked for this.” _I never asked to be run over by a fucking tank, either._ The brunette heaved a sigh of frustration, stopping the music on Newt’s phone and flinging it back at him. “Y’know what, just go. You’re fine, I’m fine, _everybody’s_ fine.” he stood up, towering over a confused Newt, looking over into some far distance as if planning his next great adventure. “You’d better get home. Your mom hasn’t stopped bugging you.”

As if right on cue, Newt’s phone started buzzing. He looked down at the screen as it lit up, cursing under his breath when he saw what time it was – _and_ when he saw who was ringing him. He realized he had to get home, but he also realized that this mysterious missing boy was also here with him. Well, he was walking away right at this moment; but Newt couldn’t just leave him out here on his own. Regardless of the fact that he seemed to be doing alright after having disappeared _two_ _weeks_ ago, Newt knew it wouldn’t be the right thing to do if he just let him go. God knows if he’d ever see him again… or if _anyone_ ever would, for that matter.

“Wait, Stephen!” Newt grimaced at the name, not knowing why. It just felt _off_ to call him by his forename, even though his second option wouldn’t exactly be any less weird. The brunette made no attempt at slowing down; even though Newt could have sworn he stumbled a little bit. He slowly kept growing more distant, the shadows almost consuming him. “Stephen!” he called, grimacing again. No response. Newt spared more curses under his breath, making to stand up and start chasing after him for a second time. _I’m not letting you disappear like this_. “ _Thomas!_ ” he finally shouted, not knowing what effect it had as he fell flat on his face again, hissing through his teeth as pain shot through his leg. “ _Urgh_ , fuck!”

His leg had never been this bad before. He hoped that the previous chase ( _and the tackle, don’t forget the tackle_ ) hadn’t recreated the same damage. He tried standing again, but his leg wouldn’t let him. _Fuck. Oh fuck_. That only left him with the option to call his mother for help, but he knew he’d never hear the end of it. They’d be out in droves looking for him, if she had her way.

“So you’re _not_ alright.” he heard a voice speak in front of him. Newt looked up, dazed because of the pain, and saw the one and only brunette crouching over him. He silently thanked whichever god was watching over him right now.

“My leg- I must have- I don’t know…” stammered Newt, anxious to even touch the damn thing for fear that it made it worse. He didn’t need to look at the boy to know that he was feeling guilty; he could practically feel it pouring out of him.

“You still need to get home.” the brunette deadpanned. _No shit, Sherlock. Maybe some help with that would be buggin’ appreciated_. Newt knew he could just ring his mother, deal with her antics and lectures whilst likely sitting in a hospital bed; but at the same time, if he could get this guy to help him home – at least get him out of the forest and back to the town…

“S’fine, I can just.. I’ll ring my mum to help…” _What are you doing, shuckface?! He’s standing right there!_

“No.” _No?_ No, what? Newt looked up at him with uncertainty; the brunette returning the gaze, but his face now unreadable. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

Newt forced an earnest face of pain and helplessness, but his mouth refused to form the corresponding words. “No, she’ll- she’ll come and get me.” _Yeah, she and the whole god damn army._

“Isaac-”

“Please, Thomas. Please.” Newt didn’t know what he was trying to convey; whether to tell the guy to just _please_ leave him or to _please_ help him. After a few seconds the brunette finally stood up, and looked for a second as though he was actually going to leave Newt there. To Newt’s surprise, however, he held out his hand, and Newt knew he didn’t have much of a choice when he conceded in taking it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in this chapter are from Bon Iver's "Holocene". :)


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! Finally another update.
> 
> I've been pretty busy with a lot of things as of late, and the first four chapters had more or less wrote themselves, so chapter five required a little more effort to throw together. That said, it's safe to say things are going to start getting a little more serious now. ;)
> 
> Enjoy, as usual! x

By the time they both made it out of the forest it was already dark; Newt’s arm locked across the brunette’s shoulders. They’d exited in a completely different area to where Newt had entered, but fortunately for the two of them they were able to recognize where they were. Newt’s house wasn’t actually that far once they cleared the tree line, and once again he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed it earlier.

Put it this way: Newt was an explorer, sure. Some might even call him an adventurer. But for some reason, even long before Thomas (as Newt had now come to calling him) had gone missing, he’d completely ignored this forested hilltop. Newt couldn’t figure out whether he did it on purpose to keep himself from getting lost, or whether it was just a subconscious thought in the back of his mind that constantly steered him away. Either way, it was a _hell_ of a coincidence that he happened to stumble into this missing teen in the middle of said forest. So much of a coincidence, in fact, Newt had to nonchalantly pinch himself several times to make sure he wasn’t still unconscious.

As soon as they stepped out onto the road leading back into town, Thomas stopped for a second, almost causing Newt to trip over him. He kept his balance and looked at the boy in a slight daze, trying to make out his features, before he realized what was suddenly going through his head.

“I can make it back home from here, mate… m’house is only a few blocks away.” Newt explained, trying to disguise his grunts as a result of standing on his injured leg. In actuality, he wasn’t sure if he _could_ actually make it back in once piece… but he knew what the brunette was thinking. He knew the risk he was taking.

Thomas just stood silent, as if pondering the answer to a million dollar question. He suddenly snapped back at Newt, eyeing him with an unmistakably ferocious expression.

“No.” is all he said, determination clear in his voice. _Who was this guy, even?_

Sure enough, they kept trudging along the road and into the streets, which were surprisingly quiet this evening. It _was_ a generally quiet neighborhood, save for the odd house parties Newt’s classmates often threw, but usually there was at least _some_ sort of activity. Whether it was cars driving to their destinations or neighbors working in their garages… but tonight you may as well have assumed it was already past midnight, leaving an unsettling feeling of loneliness hanging over them. Newt quietly thought it was maybe because the road they walked in on was really a dead-end leading into the forest. Yeah, _that_ was the reason…

Even still, Newt silently thanked the Heavens that no one was out tonight. The risk that Thomas was taking by helping Newt home… you wouldn’t have thought he was trying to hide at all. Yet here he was: Stephen Thomas, the missing boy, shuffling along a residential street in plain sight with a certain blonde hugged around his shoulders. All it would take is for a single curtain to open, for someone to take out the trash or even for a late-night working employee to come home… or for Newt to even scream out the teen’s name (which Newt mentally slapped himself for even thinking the idea), and Thomas would no longer be missing. It wouldn’t exactly be difficult to figure out; they’d already passed a few of the missing person posters, but Newt was fairly certain Thomas was actively avoiding them.

A few long minutes later, Newt only just realized how eerily quiet the trek back had been. Sure, they were both too busy with keeping him upright so he didn’t collapse out of pain again, but still. _Eerie_.

Newt knew there was a burning question on his tongue that he hadn’t dare utter since he accepted Thomas’s help, but as they got closer to Newt’s house, he figured it was now safe to ask. Relatively speaking.

“Why are you doing this?” Newt could’ve sworn Thomas had staggered slightly, but he figured that was just his own clumsy ass. _Yeah, that was totally me_.

“Why does it matter?” Thomas deadpanned, his eyes fixed forward.

Now it was Newt’s turn to snap up at him, somewhat in awe. “Have you _seen_ the posters, mate? You’re officially labeled as a missing person.”

“What does it matter.”

Newt groaned, more so in frustration than in agony. “You’re-you – _you’re walking me home!_ ”

“ _Helping_ you. Got a problem with that?”

Newt internally laughed at Thomas’s capacity to correct him in that moment, but he maintained his present emotions and continued prying. There was no going back now.

“I just… I don’t understand, mate. You go missing for two weeks, and now you have the nerve to blatantly show your face with _me_ around your shoulders.” At this, Newt stumbled over and fell forward, cursing at the asphalt.

Thomas had let him go.

“What the _fuck_ , man!?”

“If it’s that much of an issue for you then maybe you should _crawl_ the rest of the way home!” Thomas shouted, seemingly not caring about the surrounding houses anymore. He made no immediate effort to turn around and leave Newt sprawled on the ground; instead he just stood there, hands perched on his hips as if waiting for Newt to do something.

Well, okay. Newt was hurt. Like, proper for real emotionally hurt. He hadn’t felt like _that_ in a long time, either. He looked up at Thomas, the sincere expression of shock and betrayal written all over his face, mixed with feelings of anger and confusion. He’s almost positive he looked like a bobbing goldfish in that moment, lost for words; but he felt like a toddler, so small and insignificant, having just been scolded for doing something wrong.

Thomas remained standing where he was, his towering form proving his dominance over the helpless blonde who was just a few feet away from him. “Well go on, then!” he briefly waved one of his hands in the vague direction of Newt’s house, but Newt couldn’t move. Screw his leg – it was now his heart that was messing with him. _What the shuck is going on?_ After what felt like forever, Thomas finally knelt down in front of him, a somewhat _I-told-you-so_ expression on his face.

“One thing you should know about me by now, if you don’t already,” he lowered his voice so that only Newt could hear him; all deep and serious. Newt avoided his eyes, his expression now surely unreadable. “Don’t ask questions.”

Newt just nodded, as if being taught a lesson on _‘why you shouldn’t do naughty things_ ’, and reached out to take Thomas’s hand once again.

_Safe to ask, my ass…_

 

~

 

“Oh my god! _Isaac!_ Where the hell have you been?! I’ve been worried sick! I was just about to call the damn police! Where were you? What happened? Where did you go? What did you do to yourself?”

Nothing could have prepared Newt for the bombardment of questions he received upon walking through the threshold into his house. Even after the unnatural amount of time he’d spent staring at the door, bracing himself for the impact, it wasn’t enough. That’s not to say he didn’t expect it… he just wasn’t ever ready for it. Then again, when you’re being pinned down and scolded by the same damn woman who gave birth to you, how _can_ you prepare for it? Like, she _does_ have a right to be worried and angry, after all.

Newt wasn’t an only child, however, so as far as he was concerned he technically shouldn’t be his mother’s one and only _major_ concern. He still held the belief that he’s seventeen years old now and, because of it, he should be entitled to at least a _little_ bit of independence and freedom. Even still, he understood why she was mad. He hadn’t even bothered to check the time since he got to his front door. He could have been gone for hours. _Or days_.

“ _Well?!_ ” she barked again, searching him all over as if she’d find the answer written there.

“Mum, I’m fine.” said Newt through gritted teeth, trying not to make a fuss of the pain shooting through his leg. “I just got lost. Took a different track than usual.”

“But I’ve been trying to call you!”

“Phone was dead.” Newt held up his phone as evidence, the screen positively black and not responding to his touch. The fact that he at least remembered to turn his phone off before entering his house in order to fool his mother (at least, he hoped he did), was probably half the reason he didn’t check to see what time it was. Newt thought it was probably for the best, in hindsight.

“But- b-but you’re limping!”

“Oh, that?” Newt tried to stand up straight to prove he was fine but failed miserably, grimacing and leaning onto the wall for support. “It’s-nothing,” he stammered. _Real smooth, Newt. Real smooth._

“No, it isn’t. Come into the dining room, let me have a look at you.” she ordered. Newt conceded in defeat – he knew when he was beaten. _Newt – 2 : Mother – 1_.

He surrendered into one of the dining chairs, propping up his bad leg on another one (which, by this point, it was more than obvious he was in pain). His mother had disappeared into the bathroom to fetch the first-aid kit, and returned a moment later with a half-knowing look as if she expected Newt to have already fled the scene. Instead he just sat with a deadpan expression, waiting for her next move as she pulled up a third chair.

“You gonna go all ER on me?” he asked sarcastically when he eyed the first-aid kit. She seemingly ignored him, instead focusing on furling up Newt’s track pants, although he could’ve sworn he saw her eyes roll.

“Jesus, Newt…” Newt looked at her in confusion before he looked at his leg, which was somewhat swollen and definitely bruised. “How the hell did you manage that?” she asked calmly, looking around as if she’d find something to magically fix the injury.

Newt stopped and thought for a second. _I_ may _have run into that missing teenager, and he_ may _have tackled me to the ground._ “Went down a hill too fast. Put too much strain on trying to slow down, I guess… Oh, yeah, and then I fell over.” She looked up at him with a subtle hint of disbelief, but didn’t proceed to ask any further questions as she gently massaged the swollen part of his leg, listening for any obvious sounds of pain from Newt.

“And you walked all the way back here?”

“More or less,” She looked up at him again, slightly confused. “I mean, I may have found a decent branch to lean some weight on.” _Note to self: find a ‘decent branch’ to leave out the front of the house_.

She merely sighed, looking down in mild contempt at Newt’s leg. She appeared to have conceded in her immediate interrogation, instead getting up from her chair and disappearing into the kitchen, reappearing a second later with a damp kitchen towel wrapped around what would undoubtedly be ice.

“We’ll see how it goes overnight, but it doesn’t look like a repeat of your old injury. You’ve probably just strained a muscle.” Newt let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; somewhat relieved they didn’t have to go through _that_ ordeal again. The first time Newt injured his leg, it was enough of a trial that he trusted his mother’s later diagnoses on other various injuries. She’d more or less memorized the exact details of the first event, so it was no surprise that she came to relatively quick conclusions. Even still, muscle strain wasn’t the best diagnosis he could’ve anticipated, and he knew he’d be feeling it for the next few days. _At least I won’t be getting tackled again any time soon_.

At this thought a sudden ice-cold sensation shot through his leg, Newt hissing in displeasure as he noticed the newly placed icepack being pressed against it. “I did say it would be cold,” she said as if it was obvious. Newt mustn’t have heard her the first time. “You’re going to have to rest it up for a bit, so I can see if the swelling goes down.”

Newt dreaded the thought of staying out in the dining room for longer than he expected, and not for the reason his mother might think. He tried to think of an excuse to get to his room, but her next words brought up a new alternative. “I’ll bring in your homework whilst you’re sitting here… May as well get you to do something productive.” Newt mentally groaned at the thought of doing homework at this current point in time, but he played along with it. He still had a promise to keep, so he called her back the second she started heading down to his room. “Yes, dear?”

“Can you, um, open up my window when you go down there?”

“But it’s freezing outside?” she pointed out with a bemused look. “Wouldn’t it get cold in there?”

“Well yeah, but I’d rather have some fresh air in there. Sorta getting used to it with all my running, y’know? I’ll close it after when I get down there.”

She gave him a once-over as if she was looking for some sort of clarification, but seemed to concede as she nodded quite tentatively. “I’ll close your door once I head out, so the cold doesn’t spread throughout the house.” _Even better_. _Newt – 3 : Mother – 1_.

He forced a warm smile at her, which she happily returned. “Thanks Mum.”

“Don’t mention it. And you owe me for getting home late _again_ and for making me patch you up. Agreed?”

Newt rolled his eyes, earning a sarcastic scold from his mother. “Agreed.”

 

~

 

By the time Newt was able to get back to his room, it was when he noticed his leg wasn’t as painful. He’d automatically gotten up to get a glass of water, letting the ice-pack flop to the floor as he stood, rather smoothly, on both legs. His mother gave him a final once-over after that, checking to see if the swelling had gone down, and to his relief she’d given him the all-clear.

Now he was finally back in his room, his homework in hand, staring in shock at the figure currently splayed over his bed. He’d let his mind wander freely over the various math equations and English texts in front of him, that he’d completely forgotten about a certain promise he made about a definite hour ago now. It wasn’t that he’d broken said promise, but he’d left the sprawled out figure waiting here, for _Newt_ , for an _hour_.

A slight pang of guilt threatened to hit him, but he let it slide and focused on the slow and steady breathing coming from Thomas, who was so carelessly draped over Newt’s bed as if he’d merely passed out on it. Newt couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at his lips, thankful that the brunette was comfortable enough to crash on Newt’s bed and earn some likely much needed rest. Either that or he just didn’t care where it was he slept and took it for granted anyway. Newt chose to believe in the former, at least for now. The fact that Thomas was at least sleeping on something warm and soft was probably ten times better than wherever he was beforehand, and Newt was content with just that. To get Thomas out and away from his previous environment… Newt couldn’t help but think it was at least a start.

At this thought he suddenly realized how cold it was in his room, watching the brunette involuntarily shiver at the cool breeze bleeding through the window. Newt set his books down on his desk and shut it whilst trying not to wake Thomas. He made sure his door was firmly closed, but he knew his mother wouldn’t barge in on him. Not unless she had a reason to be pissed off at him. _Please don’t find another reason_.

He turned around and looked at the mess of a brunette laid out on his bed; his hair disheveled and his hands loosely gripped around the sheets. It was safe to say that Newt didn’t know what his next move was. It’s not like he could just lie down on his bed and vegetate – at least not without waking Thomas. The obscure thoughts in his head procured some… _suggestive_ imagery as a few possibilities, but Newt pushed them down the instant they surfaced. _Time and place, Newt. Time and place_.

Instead he decided to get back to his homework, which he’d already gotten a good start on. Leaving Thomas to sleep was also probably a good idea – for both their sakes.

Surprisingly, he found it rather easy to refocus on his work, what with Thomas’s deep breathing (and minor snoring) playing rhythmically behind him. It was actually… relaxing, in a way. Calming. It was as if Thomas’s soul was at peace, trapped within a visionary world of tranquility. It was almost hypnotic, stirring Newt into a daze between reality and reverie.

Thomas was here.

Thomas was safe.

Thomas was alive.

And then Newt remembered nothing as his head fell forward onto the paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments and kudos! It always inspires me to keep on writing. I've got at least another 3-4 chapters planned out, so stay tuned to see how this develops! ;)
> 
> On a side note, what does everybody feel about me adding actual Chapter Titles/Summaries? I kinda like keeping it simple at the moment, but I'm more than happy to spice it up a little bit by giving each chapter a *little* more character. I won't do anything unless you let me know, though... so, shoot me some comments! :p
> 
> Anyway, hope you're all still enjoying the fic. I feel like I kinda rushed this chapter's ending a little bit but eh. I don't want this to be *too* perfect ;P  
> The story's probably about halfway through at the moment but I *may* keep this going in some way or another...
> 
> Until then, I'll keep youse posted. xx


	6. VI

“Isaac,” _Sorry,_ Isaac _isn’t here right now. Please try again._ “Isaac, wake up.” _Denied. Re-apply in two hours._ “Isaac, come _on_ ,” _You’re gonna have to try a little harder than that_. “Don’t make me hit you with something.” _Alright, fine. You win._

Newt groaned out of his slumber, finding his neck to be awfully stiff. He tried opening his eyes, but instantly regretted the decision when a bright light practically blinded him. “Whaduyuwant?” he slurred, shielding his eyes irritatingly.

“Welcome back,” said the familiar voice. “Where’s your bathroom?” Newt didn’t have to think twice to recognize who was talking to him, but right now, all he cared about lying here for as long as possible.

“Straight to the point, huh?” Newt mumbled, trying his best not to disturb his position of comfort. Newt could practically feel the frustration emanating from wherever Thomas was, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at it.

“It’s _not_ funny! I need to piss, man,” And just like that, Thomas manages to turn the humor of the moment into one of utter cringe. Newt certainly didn’t need that level of detail.

“Down the hall, to the left,” He hoped that would be enough information to spare him from any extra unneeded details.

“Thanks.” Newt heard the familiar creak of his bed as Thomas stood up; soft footsteps making their way toward his door.

“Don’t get caught, ‘ay?” Newt added as an afterthought. The last thing he needed was to hear his mother screaming throughout the house, the police showing up a few minutes later and then some very awkward conversations.

“Relax. I’ve made it this long, haven’t I?” Thomas had a fair point. He had been missing for just over two weeks now, and no one had located any trace of him. But if Newt was able to find him, he didn’t believe the probability of someone else finding him was completely impossible. A part of Newt wanted to go with Thomas – to at least scout ahead to find out where his mother was – but he felt as though they had to establish _some_ sort of passive boundaries. Newt only wanted to make sure Thomas was comfortable and safe, sure, but that didn’t mean he had to hold his hand everywhere. Especially to the bathroom.

Instead he readjusted his position slightly, shifting his head to rest on his hand so he didn’t end up with wry neck. He settled into the position with ease, ignoring the dull ache in his leg as sleep washed over him once again.

 

**_*Several hours earlier*_ **

“That’s my house, there.” They were both a mere few meters away from Newt’s front door, with the entire house lit up like Christmas. Newt couldn’t help but think it was because he’d been go so long, so his mother was starting to go slightly insane and thought that lighting everything up would make finding his way home much easier. He ignored the twist of guilt curling up inside him, but he dreaded the thought of passing the threshold and receiving whatever rant his mother had in store for him. Newt settled on the idea of dread, as tonight wasn’t the night to feel guilty. He’d more or less gone out of his way to try and talk to Thomas – admittedly with some difficulty – but now, here he was with his arms around the brunette. Newt figured that had to count for _something_.

Thomas’s hesitation was easy to read all over his body; realization suddenly dawning on him as he chose to take in where he actually was. Newt could tell that this was a big step for him, coming back into civilization after presumably living out in the woods for the last two weeks. And whilst Newt did feel sorry for him, and would understand if he left Newt here and returned to the forest, his empathetic side wanted to do _so much more_. It would almost be selfish of Newt to just let Thomas run away into the woods again. He had to do _something_.

“Thomas-”

“Wait,” the brunette interjected, gently lifting Newt’s arm off of him. “Sit down. Take a breather.” Newt let himself be guided onto the curb, not really having much of a choice in the matter.

“My house is right there, though-”

“Just- sit. Please.” Thomas almost seemed nervous now, although Newt couldn’t tell why. He figured he was just still hesitant now that he was practically out in public again. Newt sat, with some difficulty, on the edge of the curb, stretching out his leg as best he could. Thomas watched him tentatively as if he was waiting for something to happen before he joined him, rubbing their shoulders briefly. He only just noticed how cold it actually was after they broke physical contact. An icy frost was due to cover the region this evening, and Newt only wanted to Thomas to wrap his arm around him again. _Only to provide heat_ , he told himself. _Not for… any other reasons…_

Newt looked up at the starry sky, searching for the constellations and letting the sight set him at ease. “There’s a frost coming tonight.” he said idly. Thomas hummed a response, staring blankly down the street. “You wouldn’t think that winter was coming.” He made a point of the stars, as there were evidently no clouds in sight.

Thomas scoffed. “Are you seriously talking about the weather right now?”

“Well is there a reason you’ve got me sitting here?” Newt retorted. Thomas sighed, as if the answer was obvious. “ _Well?_ ” Newt wasn’t much in the mood to keep playing whatever game this was. He was a mere few feet away from his house, cold and uncomfortable, and not to mention in pain. For whatever reason Thomas had him sitting here, Newt had no idea; but he could tell from the brunette’s nerviness that it wasn’t just because he was back in town again – _or_ because he wanted Newt to rest. Newt could rest as much as he liked once he got indoors, as far as he was concerned.

But then he remembered one of the reasons he was with Thomas in the first place, and he felt bad for being annoyed at him. The guy was clearly going through a difficult time, and Newt probably wasn’t making it much easier.

“I just… I guess I just wanted to…” Thomas stammered, looking anywhere but at Newt.

“Stay tonight.” Newt blurted out.

Thomas snapped to look at him, his mouth slightly dropping. “What?”

Now it was Newt’s turn to look at his feet, trying to grasp what he’d just said. Had he really just asked Thomas to stay the night? Some random guy who he barely knew? This was some dangerous territory he was entering, and Newt wasn’t so sure there was any turning back if he went through with it. _What are you thinking!?_

“Surely you’re not about to tell me you’d rather stay out here in the cold?”

Thomas bobbed his mouth like a goldfish for a few moments, realization and surprise creating a rather amusing expression on his features. “Isaac… I-I can’t…”

“Why?” Newt found himself asking. _Shut up, damn it!_ “Because you’re afraid you’ll get caught?”

“You can’t ask me to do this. Not now.”

“Then think about me asking you again in five minutes.”

“Isaac-” But Newt didn’t hang around. He found the strength to get up and leave Thomas sitting on the curb, beginning to make his way to the front door. _What the hell are you doing, Newt?!_

 “I might open my window when I get inside. Yeah… keep that fresh air flowing.” Newt murmured to himself, but loud enough so that Thomas could hear him. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or why he was doing it, but either way he felt that he’d made a promise to the brunette; or more so a promise to himself. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was yet, but keeping promises was the one thing he was at least good at when it came to his compassionate side. He just hoped he’d made the right one.

 

~

 

Newt woke with a start, adjusting to the light shining through his curtains. He didn’t focus much on the snoring in the room that had woken him, or the fact that his upper torso was practically sprawled over his desk, or even the possibility that his mother could have at any time noticed Thomas in his room. Instead he focused on the dull ache in his leg and at the tight stiffness in his neck for having been lying over his desk all night. He whispered curses under his breath at his ignorance of good bodily posture as he slowly raised his head, stretching his muscles with some difficulty.

He looked around the room, and was somewhat relieved when he confirmed that it was in fact Thomas’s snoring that had woken him, and not his mother’s screams or yells of shock. Okay, Newt’s fairly certain his mother wouldn’t _totally_ freak out by seeing a random stranger in their house… but still, he liked to account for all possibilities. To him, anything and everything was possible. It was just a matter of time.

A smile crept along his features when his eyes settled on Thomas, who had more or less melted into the mattress of his bed much more comfortably than he had when he’d found him last night. His head was actually laying on one of the pillows, and he’d loosely thrown a corner of the bed covers over him as if he’d forgotten to climb into the sheets and couldn’t be bothered maneuvering to work himself inside them. Newt was slightly irked at how much of a mess his bedsheets had become as a result of this, but the fact that Thomas was still fast asleep overwhelmed this irritation. The boy sure as hell looked like he needed it.

Rubbing his eyes, he made to go to the bathroom, quickly deciding that it would be better to get his limbs up and moving rather than leaving them to protest at his previous position that he’d effortlessly held for the past several hours. He also couldn’t help but raise suspicion at his mother’s lack of… presence. It wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary, of course; it’s not like she often intruded into his room. Even still, his curiosity got the better of him, and for both his and Thomas’s sake it was probably for the best to determine her whereabouts.

He didn’t spend too long in the bathroom, mainly finding it as an excuse to get up and walk around. He meandered into the kitchen shortly after, pouring himself a glass of milk and completely forgetting about keeping an eye out for his mother. Instead he absent-mindedly looked around the room, not spotting anything unusual other than an unmistakable note placed on the dining table. It was when he read it that his groggy mind clicked back into place.

_Newt – I’m at the store today. Halloween’s around the corner and they need more staff to deal with all the last-minute shoppers. Let me know if you need anything – I’ll be home in a few hours. Mom x_

Newt mentally sighed in relief. At least his mother would be out of the way for a little while longer, meaning he wouldn’t have to worry too hard about hiding Thomas. He looked at the time, _11:30 AM_ , before setting the note back down and returning to his room, thinking about what to do next, when he saw the brunette awake and sat up with his knees to his chest. Newt took a tentative sip of his milk to announce his presence, and Thomas idly looked at him; seemingly not phased about the fact that he was cooped up in _Newt’s_ bed, in _Newt’s_ room in _Newt’s_ house. He did, however, look uneasy. Like there was something else on his mind that was of more concern to him than laying in said bed.

The brunette acknowledged Newt’s presence with a small nod and a soft “Hey.” Newt set his milk down on the desk and turned toward the teen, pocketing his hands.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. Thomas shuffled a little in the sheets but kept his gaze on Newt; or, at least, Newt’s general direction.

“Fine, I guess.” he shrugged. Newt frowned, leaning back a little into his desk and grabbing his milk for another swig.

“Better than sleeping out there.” Newt nodded his head to the window.

“Is that why you asked me to stay?” The question caught Newt off-guard a little, but he recovered with another sip and kept his gaze on the teen.

“I asked you to stay because I thought you’d be better off. I mean, _anyone_ would…” Thomas opened his mouth as if to retort, but Newt interjected. “But, yes. That _is_ why I asked you to stay.”

There was a moment of silence for a few minutes, Newt taking a few more sips and eyeing the teen with slight uncertainty.

“How can you do it, Thomas?”

“What?” Thomas looked up; now his turn to be caught off-guard.

“You. Out there. You look like you haven’t-” Newt gulped, choosing his next words. “It’s cold enough out there as it is.” Newt hoped his message got through, and when Thomas gave a subtle nod he felt himself breathe a little easier.

“I’ve got stuff. Out there, I mean. Clothes and… and things…” he trailed off, staring out the window.

Newt hummed in acknowledgement. He didn’t want to pry too much into what these _things_ might be. No. That could wait. Suddenly the teen looked up again, his face full of apprehension.

“How long am I staying here?”

And _there_ it is. The one question Newt didn’t actually have a definite answer for. Between him, his mother and his sister, and just Thomas’s general presence in the neighborhood, he had a feeling that Thomas wouldn’t be around for long. Still, he had to give it to the guy. The way he asked the question made it sound as though Newt was ordering him to stay at his house, and that he was under Newt’s instruction as to when and if he could or couldn’t do something. Newt mentally laughed at this side of Thomas, but at the same time felt sorry for him. He wanted Thomas to feel unrestricted; to be open and to feel safe. Not to feel as though he had to comply with whatever anyone thought was best for him. So he gave his honest answer.

“As long as you need to.”

Thomas nodded ever so slightly and Newt suddenly felt an uneasy tension dissolve in the room, as if Thomas had been emitting some sort of perturbed aura. He let a close-lipped smile creep at his lips and noticed as Thomas returned it, seeming thankful in this one and only moment.

Yeah. He’d definitely made the right promise.

 

~

 

The two of them chatted idly in Newt’s room for a little longer, Newt getting Thomas his own glass of milk some way in-between, but they were mostly just enjoying each other’s company. It was as if they were both grounding points for each other, and just being in each other’s presence seemed to dim the reality around them and settled any major concerns they had. Perhaps it was Thomas’s now relaxed demeanor that allowed Newt to understand him more, and Newt’s empathy and ‘easy going’ side made it easier for Thomas to feel comfortable around him.

Put it this way: Thomas had full on tackled an off-guard Newt like a damn football player because he was, quite simply, afraid and slightly paranoid. He’d thought Newt was a _detective_ , for god’s sake; out there in the woods, chasing him down in order to bring him back home to his parents. But when he realized who Newt actually was… well, let’s just say that Newt thinks it was probably a good thing that he stumbled across Thomas when he did. If he had of found him a week or two later, hell even a whole month, there’s no telling what Thomas would have done in order to keep his whereabouts, and even his general existence, a secret. The guy was mentally messed up, clearly, and those first signs of paranoia could have easily been replaced with complete utter insanity.

All in all, he’s glad that Thomas is here with him right now. Whether he did end up convincing him to stay, or if Thomas made the decision himself, it didn’t matter. What mattered, to Newt, was Thomas’s life. As did everyone’s. And as far as he was concerned, he’d fight for anyone broken he came across to be even the slightest bit happier.

 

Thomas reluctantly agreed to have a shower after Newt brought up the subject of Thomas’s body odor, which was now beginning to permeate the room (which inevitably included Newt’s bed that _he_ still had to sleep in, as well). That, and Thomas’s current appearance wasn’t _overly_ flattering. Now that it was clear daylight, Newt could make out the dirt on his face and the rough stubble growing on his chin. His ragged clothes made it obvious that he hadn’t changed in a while, and even if he had, his disheveled unkempt hair suggested otherwise.

Even still, Newt understood that Thomas was only self-conscious about being in someone else’s shower (even though he’d already been sleeping in _Newt’s_ bed), but the guy _had_ been missing for two weeks and more or less looked as though he was homeless. It would do him some good to freshen up a bit, and Newt would be all the more thankful for it.

Newt arranged some of his own clothes on his bed in an obvious fashion, so Thomas would know they’re for him. The guy didn’t have his own clothes and his other “things” on him, so it was the least Newt could do until he got his shit together. He got some fleeting ideas about maybe going to collect Thomas’s stuff, wherever it was in the woods, but it’d look a little suspicious of Newt and far too dangerous for Thomas, in terms of keeping his secrecy. He let the thoughts subside for the moment, making a mental note to discuss it with Thomas later.

He then made a poor attempt at picking up where he left off with his homework, before he’d so carelessly passed out on top of it the night before. He succeeded in making a little bit of progress, but a nagging feeling in his stomach and an irritating thought in his head kept leaping back to _the boy in the shower_. He didn’t quite know what was happening to him in terms of his feelings, but every time they surfaced he just pushed them back down.

See, Newt wasn’t one to let his personal feelings get in the way of his selfless empathy. It was his one rule. Whether he loved or hated the person was irrelevant; what _was_ relevant was the importance of feeling concern for said person, and whether or not to act on it – which, of course, he did so a lot of the time. It made it easier for Newt to deal with people that way, and it also made it fair on them that he treated them with a sense of neutrality. There wasn’t ever any judgment, hatred, or really any reciprocated feelings of any kind. There was only Newt; Newt and his bottomless heart.

So it wasn’t hard to imagine that Newt was having some difficulty keeping his feelings about Thomas under the surface. He felt sorry for him, sure, and of course wanted to help him. But he also felt something more… A pull, all too familiar to Newt that, to be honest, scared him. He’d never really questioned his sexuality… he didn’t need to. Didn’t have a _reason_ to. But this guy, this missing teenager, this _Stephen Thomas_ was making him feel the very thing he’d sworn not to let get in the way of his selfless nature.

Newt was a strong kid. He knew that. He’d been through a lot and had equally been there for a lot of people, to the point where he’d more or less developed a kind of armor to help him soldier on; to continue being the anchor that people didn’t know they needed. Thomas, on the other hand… Thomas was a whole mix of everything. He was the one person that Newt found challenging, and not because of his current predicament. No, Thomas was slowly, _somehow_ , exposing Newt’s one weakness. The one and only thing that he’d kept buried for so long. The one thing he swore never to feel again.

And _that_ , is what scared him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand another one! <3
> 
> Once again completely unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. This one took a little longer because I was so torn up about how long to keep the chapters. Being a short fic I don't want to drag anything out too much, so I ended up splitting this chapter with another one which means there'll be another update coming soon!
> 
> A lot of story build going on at the moment but the next few chapters will have a lot more... 'action'. Don't say I didn't warn you. ;)
> 
> Thanks again for all your lovely feedback! Also, if you have any personal requests you want to add to this fic then let me know in the comments... ;)


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Updaaaaaate!_
> 
>  
> 
> Hello again all! I know it's been a little while, but I can promise you I've been working _a lot_ on this behind the scenes. I kind of wanted to actually finish this story before I posted the rest of the chapters, and I'm slowly but surely working through it. Nonetheless, I feel like I owe it you that I should share some of these spoils. Consider this a guarantee that, one day, I _will_ finish this.

Newt was just working out the answer to a math question when he heard the familiar slam of a car door, and his heart leapt into his mouth. Put him on a game show and give him three guesses: the first one would be his _shucking mother_. _She’s home – oh, fuck, she’s home!… shit!shit!shit!_

Thomas was still in the shower, and Newt hadn’t yet formed a good explanation for why the former was currently staying in the house (not that he hoped he’d need one), let alone why there was a complete stranger in their bathroom. He knew he’d never hear the end of it if his mother found out, and he’d intended on keeping Thomas’s presence secret for as long as possible; at least, Newt hoped, until he got his shit together.

Quite frankly, Newt wasn’t completely certain _how_ his mother would respond, but he was fairly positive it would result in Thomas having to go home. And, in all honesty, Newt didn’t think Thomas was anywhere _near_ ready for that just yet; his shit sorted or not. He had to think of something, but the only ideas he could come up with were downright crazy. He stood up and peered out of his curtains at his mother’s car, and only just saw the image of her disappear from view. _She’s coming inside, oh fuck!_

Newt had to admit, he was panicking; the intensity of which hadn’t happened in years, and he was certain that it wasn’t a good thing. He tried to regulate his breathing, but the more time he wasted the closer his mother came to finding out the truth.

So Newt did the unthinkable.

He burst out of his room, practically sprinted down to the bathroom and forced his way inside without a second thought, not even stopping to pay attention to see if the door was locked and if he’d just broken the damn thing by ramming it open. He slammed the door behind him and rested his hands against it, trying to ignore the piercing gaze the brunette was shooting him.

“Isaac! What the _fuck_ are you doing?!” Thomas practically yelled at him from in the shower, and it took every ounce of willpower for Newt to not look anywhere but his face as he turned around, hissing a _“Shhh!”_ at the teen with a finger pressed to his lips.

“What?! Get the fuck _out_ , dude!”

“My fucking _mother’s_ home, you shank!” It took a few moments for the realization to click in Thomas’s head, but when it did his expression slowly turned into one of slight distress. “ _Don’t_ turn the shower off-” warned Newt as Thomas subconsciously reached for the tap; his other hand protecting his modesty. “If she finds out you’re in here… just- I’ll cover for you, okay?” Newt tried to reassure him.

“But I-I’m still _naked_ right now!” Thomas stuttered, his face positively red. Newt couldn’t figure out if it was because of the hot water or just from pure embarrassment, but he did bring up a fairly valid point that proved _somewhat_ to be of a minor problem for the two of them. Still – not the current topic of discussion.

“Is that _really_ what you’re concerned about right now?” Newt seethed at him. “ _Really?_ ” He totally didn’t have the time or patience to mess around in this instant. “If you’re _that_ bloody self-conscious, turn around or something- I don’t buggin’ know!”

Thomas opened his mouth, likely to retort about the fact that turning around would be an even greater felony. Which it probably would be, in all respect… _It’s not like he could hide his rear as easily as he’s hiding himself now… Snap out of it, Newt! Now is not the time!_

They were both interrupted by a knocking on the door which made them jump, followed by a familiar voice calling through from the other side. “Newt? You in there?”

Newt held up a hand to reassure Thomas, turning his focus to the door. “Yeah? Who else would it be?” he called back, pulling a weird face at Thomas who just scorned him down.

“You know who else, silly!”

Newt rolled his eyes. How could his mother really be so daft? “Lizzy isn’t home until tomorrow, remember?”

There was a short pause, followed by a separated “Oh.” and “Right.” from the other side of the door. Newt could literally picture his mother facepalming at her own ignorance. The fact that she didn’t even remember where her own daughter was being only _slightly_ concerning. _Just slightly_.

“Well I’m only stopping in to grab a few things. Paige is off sick at the moment, so I’m taking over her shift. I’ll be back again in a few hours, okay?”

“Okay!” Newt stood silent for a few moments, leaning his ear against the door to hear for any fading footsteps. After he couldn’t hear anything he let out a deep breath, feeling like sliding down the bathroom door and resting his head in his hands, utterly relieved at pretty much _everything_. Thomas was still a kept secret, and his mother would be leaving again shortly which made a _hell_ of a lot of things easier.

That’s when he remembered that Thomas was still standing in the shower, stark naked with hot water and soap suds dripping off of him. Newt shook his head to clear his thoughts, trying his best not to look any more in Thomas’s general direction.

“Can I maybe finish my shower now?” said the brunette in a firm tone. “ _Alone?_ ”

Newt tried not to feel disappointed at the last word, instead focusing his attention on the door. He knew full well he couldn’t leave until he was certain that the coast was clear.

“Er…”

There was an audible huff of annoyance even over the splashing of shower water, and again Newt forced himself not to turn around.

“Yep. No, that’s perfectly fine. I’ll just wait for _her_ to leave.” The sarcasm hit Newt straight in the face, making him cringe at how damn _awkward_ this was.

Newt silently hit his head against the door. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening right now.

 

~

 

Newt figured he’d caused them both enough embarrassment by charging in on the brunette having a shower ( _thank_ god _it wasn’t something else_ ), so he didn’t even wait for the guy to ask for privacy once he returned to Newt’s room to change. Nor did he even look remotely in his general direction, totally not paying attention to the fact that he was now only wearing a _shucking towel. What the actual fuck is happening right now?_

So he decided to make himself busy by making both him and Thomas a sandwich. Yeah… busy… that will _totally_ get those images out of Newt’s head. At least the thought of food might cheer the teen up a bit, if not Newt even hoped completely. Anything to avoid the potential possibility of Thomas tackling him again, merely because he walked in on him during his most vulnerable moment.

Okay, so Newt didn’t have a _large_ amount of choice back there. It was either Thomas being caught stark naked by Newt’s mother, or being caught stark naked by Newt himself; and, as crazy as it seemed, he desperately engaged in the latter. All things considered, he supposed Thomas would have chosen the same option as well. Being found out and going back home was very much not in his immediate schedule; one would have to be pretty darn stupid to miss it.

Put it this way: Newt liked to think that everybody had certain ‘auras’. He’s not sure whether he made up the thought, or whether it’s because he believes he can actually sense the damn things. Either way, he could definitely feel _something_ emanating from Thomas. Something that wasn’t passively attacking Newt’s emotions, either. It was rather something that only convinced Newt that the teen was internally conflicted, which only cemented the notion that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon – least of all back home.

His body language, Newt was quick to notice, was easily comparable to that of an insecure pet that had previously been abused. He’d wince at the slightest touch, shiver at the slightest sensation, or glare at certain things as if they’d evolve and attack him. The motions were extremely subtle, easy to miss, but Newt’s long training in empathy got him used to quickly noticing the signs. Whenever someone was injured, whenever someone was sad or angry… even with his mother after his father… after his father had left, he was able to notice all the differences.

More times than many he considered himself to be psychic, but he didn’t want to stray _too_ far from sanity so he often dismissed the thought. Yes, he agreed that he more or less had the ability to read other people’s mental behavior – well, _thought_ he did – but that was it. He didn’t want to delve too far into the topic lest he wound up at some carnival years later, giving out palm readings and staring into crystal balls. Newt shivered at the thought, but managed to chuckle silently at the image it procured: ‘ _Seer Newt – Divine Soul Reader_ ’.

 _God damn it_.

Newt decided to quickly finish making the sandwiches after that.

As he returned to his room, he paused outside the door at an oddly familiar sound. One that only he could remember making from within. He tentatively (and awkwardly, because of the sandwiches) made his way inside, letting his curiosity disregard his manners to knock beforehand. Were it not for Newt’s self-control, _again_ , it’s safe to say he would have dropped the sandwiches.

Thomas was sat, the most relaxed Newt had ever seen him whilst awake, on the edge of his bed with Newt’s damn guitar propped on his lap. He’d forgotten he even still had it these past few months, what with being so busy with school and life and now _Thomas_ that it had just been collecting dust. But the brunette had discovered it ( _of course he had_ ), strumming innocently at the strings and familiarizing himself with its tuning, and after a few short seconds he began to play out a melody, seemingly oblivious to Newt’s presence.

If the sandwich-holding idiot in the doorway was made of ice, he’s sure he would have melted right then and there.

The song was soft and melancholy, simple and easy to follow, and drowned out the room to the point where the focus was simply Thomas. His fingers worked effortlessly, maneuvering their way around the strings like he was born for it; puffs of dust sprang off of them as he did so. The melody seemed to portray a sense of foreboding and general uneasiness, the tempo forever changing; but at the same time it felt so serene and calming. It was a beautiful illusion that tugged at the soul; a fearful reminder that whilst everything may seem to be at ease, there was always a wave that was yet to ripple the serenity.

Thomas ended the piece with a slow trill of its final chord, softly relaxing himself into the instrument and looking completely immersed in another world. He looked up at Newt, and Newt was… well, Newt was serenaded. That’s it. He was done. He was positive that this guy wouldn’t stop surprising him, but _this?_ No, there was no way Newt could have prepared himself for this.

“You-you play the guitar?” He cursed himself for stammering. Thomas just nodded, a hint of a smug smirk appearing on his face. And then Newt noticed it, of course he did, because his stupid mouth couldn’t contain his stupid words. “Do you often play with no pants on?

Newt thought it probably wasn’t a bad thing that he noticed that particular detail _after_ he noticed him playing the guitar, but it still didn’t make the situation any less awkward. Fortunately, for both their sakes, the brunette was clad in Newt’s boxer briefs and t-shirt, but the latter’s short-circuiting mind couldn’t exactly analyze the detail in seclusion. He did, however, notice the brunette’s face tinge red with embarrassment.

“Is that a problem?” challenged the teen, clearly looking self-conscious now. Newt was taken aback, quickly looking for a way to rectify the situation.

“What? N-no I just-” He looked down at the sandwiches, remembering why he was stood there in the first place. “I made plates. _I mean_ sandwiches.” _Damn it, Newt, pull it together!_ Thankfully, Thomas actually smiled in humor. It was a small close-lipped smirk, but it was better than an evil grin. “I thought you might want something to eat.” Thomas just looked at him innocently as if he’d done something mischievous, clearly waiting for something; although Newt could detect a hint of something else playing in his eyes. “I mean, if you’re not hungry-”

“Isaac.”

“Huh?”

“Relax.”

“Oh.” Thomas snorted in mild laughter, earning a sheepish look from Newt. “Shut up, you shank.”

“Shank?” The brunette’s tone was slightly cautious, unsure of the word.

Newt leant against his desk, passing one of the plates to Thomas who muttered his thanks. “It’s a word me and my best friends use on each other.”

“What does it mean?”  Thomas said as he took a bite out of his sandwich, moaning into the mouthful. The boy probably hadn’t tasted real food in weeks.

Newt chuckled slightly. Gally was always coming up with weird phrases and names, and to be honest he didn’t even know what half of them meant. He just knew that they sounded right. “To be honest, I don’t even know.”

“Sounds like an interesting friendship.” Newt furrowed his brow, making the brunette scoff slightly. “You call each other nicknames and you don’t even know what they mean?”

Newt shrugged. “I guess we just trust each other, y’know? Gally’s a good bloke. He wouldn’t say anything unless he meant it.”

“Gally…” Thomas tested the name on his tongue, before taking another bite of his sandwich. They sat in silence for a few moments, before Newt turned his focus to the guitar leaning against his bed. His curiosity was beginning to overwhelm him, more so as he started to realize that he still didn’t know a _single damn thing_ about the teen sitting in front of him. Technically he was still a stranger to him. A stranger that Newt seemingly had no problem in sheltering.

“How long have you played guitar?” he found himself asking. Thomas tilted his head to look at the instrument, scanning it as if the answer was written there.

“Since I was thirteen. My dad-” Thomas stopped on the word, his face contorting slightly, but he corrected his posture and continued on. “…h-he got one for my birthday. I started lessons a year later, and since then I guess it’s just sort of stuck with me.” Newt nodded silently, biting his way into his own sandwich. “What about you?”

“What?” said the mouthful of food.

“Oh come on, Isaac, ninety-eight percent of people who have an instrument actually play the thing rather than just use it as an ornament.”

Newt swallowed his mouthful, his eyebrows challenging. “What if I’m the remaining two percent?”

Thomas gave him a once-over, studying his features. “I don’t think you are.” he said softly. Newt laughed into another bite, the action of it shaking his table. “I’m serious. You… you seem like a smart guy.”

Newt chewed down hard, not really knowing how to react to the statement. A part of him wanted to retort and question the guy’s intent, but he instead felt himself blush despite his best efforts not to – Thomas’s statement wasn’t _exactly_ untrue.

“My mother got me the guitar when I was eight… said I’d grow into it. Years went on and I kinda just kept staring at it… then one day I picked it up and started having a go.” Newt nonchalantly lowered his sandwich, staring out into nothingness. “My mother got me the guitar, but… I always ended up playing for my dad. The music that he was into, at the time… it was easy to copy.”

“At the time?”

Newt swallowed hard, an old but familiar sensation burning at the back of his throat. “Four years ago, he… I was practicing the chords to Hotel California when… when we got the call.”

Thomas rested his own plate on his lap, eyebrows raised in slight concern as he perked his head up in attention.

“His car had been hit by a drunk driver.” he said bluntly. Thomas looked taken aback at the revelation, but remained staring intently. “Witnesses reported seeing his car r-roll at least seven times before ramming into a _fucking_ telephone pole.” Newt didn’t realize his sudden anger until he directed it into his words. He didn’t want to get angry at Thomas.

“Jesus Christ, Isaac,” The brunette leant forward, both hands clasped in front of him. Newt could tell from the corner of his eye that he was fidgeting.

“He… he-”

“Stop. You don’t have to say anymore…” He suddenly realized his hands were warm… _impossibly_ warm. He braved himself to look down, and saw the teen’s hands wrapped around his own. _When the hell did that happen?_ “I get it. Okay? I understand.” _Why did I just tell Thomas about the accident?_ “You don’t have to explain anything.” _Thomas is a complete stranger to me… a_ stranger. “I’m here.”

At those exact words Newt remembered the reason the teen was in his room in the first place. Newt was supposed to be taking care of _him_ ; not the other way round.

He sniffed and forced his hands free of Thomas’s grip, wiping away the tears he didn’t know were starting to pool. “I’m okay, Tommy.”

Thomas suddenly sat back and cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. “Tommy?”

Newt felt himself laughing, remembering the sensation of it and how _good_ it felt. “Fuck… I’m sorry, Thomas.”

Thomas shook his head, his body shaking with his own laughter as if nothing had just happened. “As long as we’re using nicknames, I’ll have to come up with one for you, as well.”

Newt finally looked up at those big, brown doe eyes and attempted what could only be described as his poorest death stare. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on, don’t be such a killjoy. How about…” the teen put on an even-worse-than-Newt’s-death-stare thinking face. “Newton. For Isaac Newton.”

Newt wheezed at the teen’s conclusion, quickly changing into an uncontrollable laugh that earned a look of utmost confusion.

“What? Too corny?”

Newt could barely get the words out. “My last name _is_ Newton, you shank!”

“Oh.” Newt’s laughter was beginning to fill the room. “Wait… _really?_ ” Scratch that; Newt’s laughter was beginning to fill the _house_ – especially once the brunette joined in. It didn’t take long for them both to come down from their high, although Newt was still giggling uncontrollably.

Thomas put on another thinking face, this one much more genuine than the last. “Well, what about… Newt?”

Newt’s laughter immediately subsided and he let his face fall into a close-lipped smile, smirking at the other teen’s complete unawareness. “Yeah. Let’s go with Newt.”

 

~

 

Seeing as Newt’s mother was out of the house until late ( _They’ve decided to redecorate the store for Halloween, so I’ll be home well after twelve!_ ), Newt decided to order in pizza and get some movies running. Thomas seemed to be… improving, so to speak – at least, what with considering everything that’s happened – but he was still a long way out of his comfort zone. Newt hoped a few _completely innocent_ movies might help assist in the latter, for _completely innocent_ reasons. Yes. _Completely innocent._

He mentally slapped himself more times than necessary. ‘Hooking up’ with Thomas was definitely the last thing on his mind right now, even if he _was_ vaguely interested in the teen; especially after having practically vowed to look after and take care of the guy. No, Newt needed to be in the right state of mind. _His_ state of mind. He wouldn’t be of any use to anybody if he was lost in-between his selfless compassion and a selfish attraction toward the brunette. That wouldn’t be just be unfair on him – that would be unfair on _everyone. Dammit, why is this suddenly so difficult?_

Thomas didn’t seem to mind, however. The thought of distracting oneself with a series of several hour long videos and junk food would be a welcome idea to anyone. Even still, he _did_ insist on helping Newt get some things ready; like the snacks and even with picking the movie. Newt finally agreed to the latter. The guy probably felt guilty for moping around in someone else’s house all day, so Newt could only understand his intent. Having him do something productive might even help him feel better… even if it was only scrolling through the seemingly endless list of Netflix movies.

After what felt like hours, Newt finally settled into his room with the standard pepperoni pizza (like all stereotypical Americans) with his free hand grasping several bags of snacks, and tried for as long as possible to avoid noticing whichever movie Thomas had picked. Unfortunately the preview music gave it away, and Newt looked up at the sheepish grin that was radiating from the teen sitting cross-legged on his bed.

“Titanic. _Really?_ ”

Thomas threw his hands up in defense, trying (and failing) to look completely innocent. “Hey, I just heard they’d redone all the special effects and everything. I thought we’d check it out.”

Newt sighed in defeat, knowing all too well he had little choice in the matter. “Alright. But you’d better not cry all over me. I’ve been used as my mother’s handkerchief more times than I’d like to admit.”

The teen sniggered in response, returning another innocent, boyish grin as he bounced slightly on the bed. “Deal!”

 _Christ. This really is like looking after a young child, isn’t it?_ Newt lay back on his bed as the brunette did the same, establishing a perishable barrier between them using the pizza box and the various snacks he’d procured from the kitchen, following a few taps of the remote as the screen flared into life and the movie began to play.

 

~

 

Newt didn’t realize how bad _he_ needed to sit back and watch a movie, either. The past forty-eight hours had been pretty intense, and he hadn’t really given himself much of a chance to have some downtime. The concern of his mother potentially barging in on them again was pushed into the back of his mind, as Jack and Rose danced around to the lively music the theatrical band was playing.

Then there was Thomas. This seemingly innocent, but also conflicted, runaway teen who was lying so comfortably in Newt’s bed, so immersed in the film you wouldn’t think he had any problems at all. Newt couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he knew enough to understand that people with depression, or depressive tendencies, are pretty damn good at hiding it. He knew it was for the best that he didn’t push the teen into opening up and unbottling his whole life’s story, but he also knew it couldn’t stay that way forever. Thomas would be found out eventually, and when he did, Newt had to be ready for it. He sure as hell didn’t think Thomas was going to be.

“Do you reckon they played actual music on set?” Speaking of Thomas…

Newt gave a subtle jolt of his head, shaking himself from the stupor he had so easily fallen into. “What?”

“The band. In this scene? I mean, it’d be pretty weird if they were just dancing to nothing.” Newt contemplated the thought for a second, before the teen added an afterthought. “…could you dance to nothing?”

“I think, if you have the imagination for it, you can play your own music.” Newt pondered.

“Imagination? What, you mean to dance to music that isn’t actually there?”

Newt shrugged, absentmindedly feeling for a twizzler. “Why not?”

“I dunno, sounds kinda weird to me.”

“Are you telling me that you never play music in your head?”

“Well, I mean like sometimes, when I really like a new song, but…”

“Not recently?” Newt braved a look to the spot next to him. Thomas was sort of half frozen, half looking down but still keeping eye contact with the screen. After a few moments he came to, but Newt had to strain to hear him.

“No… not recently.” he muttered.

Newt could see the internal struggle emanating from the teen. He didn’t exactly seem depressed, but he _was_ in a dark place. This reminded Newt of why _he_ was here; of why _he_ was opting to look after Thomas. His mission was to keep him from going further down the rabbit hole, and he knew exactly how to do that.

“You see this?” Newt gestured to his head. Thomas looked up, slightly perplexed.

“Your… head?”

Newt smiled and shook said head. “Not a moment goes by whenever my mind isn’t playing a piece of music. There’s… constant chatter. Whether it’s instrumental, or vocalized, there’s always _something_ playing.”

Thomas managed a smirk and turned back to the screen. “Sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“Actually, it’s quite satisfying. Every moment of it is music for me. It… distracts me.”

“Distracts you? From what?”

“Life.” At this, Thomas turned his gaze back to Newt’s eyes, who was searching the teen for a reaction, but with the light coming from the TV it was hard to decipher. “Sometimes it _can_ get quite overwhelming, all the noise. But generally it helps me to focus _away_ from the things that would otherwise distract me.” _From you_. _No, don’t say that, you idiot…_

Thomas furrowed his brow, looking utterly confused. “What could be more distracting than constant music playing in your head?”

“It’s not so much the distraction,” laughed Newt. “It’s more the focus. The music helps me isolate what I’m doing, or how I’m feeling.”

Thomas murmured in approval, earning a bemused look from Newt. “I mean, that’s interesting… _you’re_ interesting.” Newt was thankful the room was moderately dark at this moment, hiding the blush that was definitely not bleeding up his face. “Can I ask you something?”

Newt quickly collected himself. “Sure?”

“If you have all this music playing inside your head, how come you never play your guitar?”

Newt hung his head, feeling his heart drop slightly. “Tommy…”

“I know, I know... about _that_ … but… I’m just wondering. It just seems like a good idea, to me. Let those thoughts out into the real world… you know?”

“I don’t know… I-I don’t know…”

“Hey, you don’t have to know. I just want you to think about it. I think it might… help.”

Newt looked back at Thomas, but the teen’s still unshaven face was already directed back toward the TV. He again seemed calm, as if he wasn’t fazed by anything or by what had just happened, making Newt question who was helping who. Did Thomas really just give him advice? The missing teen, in his bedroom, that _Newt_ was supposed to be taking care of? How is that even possible? How could he have let that happen?

Newt wanted to react, to tell the brunette that he knew nothing of what Newt was going through and that none of his life was his business. _But that could easily backfire, you idiot._ Newt knew that. Of course he did. _You want to tell him that he has no business with your life, when you’re basically invading his? How ironic, Isaac._ But that wasn’t what Newt wanted to do. He only wanted to remind the teen that _he_ was here to be looked after, that _he_ was here to recover; not the other way around. _Then maybe you shouldn’t be so obvious_.

Obvious? Newt was being obvious?

None of this was making any sense to him. He could feel the air getting thinner, a rising heat prickling around his ears. He needed to breathe – he needed to think.

“I-I’ll be back…” he muttered.

“What? Where are you going?”

“Just need the bathroom. Don’t pause it – I’ve already seen it like ten times.” Newt forced a smirk at the teen as he left, who he just realized he didn’t know the age of.

But right now he couldn’t think of Thomas any longer. Newt had to get his head sorted out, to reassess where he was, and on what ground the two of them stood. _How could I have let that happen?_

Before he could figure out an answer, the sensation of cold water drowning his face returned him to solid ground. He looked up into what was undoubtedly the bathroom mirror, looking around the reflection to try and convince himself that he’d walked there and not just magically appeared out of thin air.

There was a reason why Newt had buried memories, and now this _shucking_ teen was digging them all back up again. _Why has this become a two way street all of a sudden?_ Newt knew what his role was: to help and care for people who needed it – to take care of _Thomas_. Newt didn’t need anyone’s sympathy; he just needed problems to fix. And fixing Thomas was creating more trouble than was necessary.

Newt balled up his fists against the ivory basin, cursing himself. How could he have let this happen?

There was only one thing left to do, and as he stormed out of the bathroom, his face determined, he knew what doing this would mean; but he wouldn’t let himself be exposed like this anymore.

Slamming open his bedroom door, he opened his mouth to speak – ice-cold words waiting like daggers – until he saw the intended target propped up in a ball at the head of his bed, knees raised to chin, with a clear stream of tears shining against the light of the television.

Newt glanced between both the brunette and the screen, his eyes recognizing the iconic moment with Jack and Rose on the bow of the Titanic. The two were in an embrace, lips met, as the scene around them slowly aged into the wreck that was sitting underneath the Atlantic. Newt looked back to the teen, somewhat dumbstruck, and he would have begun to laugh were it not for the somber vibe that Thomas was giving off.

The daggers in Newt’s throat made a hasty retreat, suddenly feeling anxious and afraid.

“Please don’t leave me.” croaked the teen, looking helplessly at Newt, who looked between him and the screen a few more times. As he started piecing two and two together, he began to realize what was going through the teen’s head. “ _Newt._ ” It almost sounded desperate; like Thomas was hopelessly asking for something that can’t be so easily given.

_Maybe he’s much worse than I think he is._

Newt didn’t know how to deal with this. Sure, he’d handled it before, but somehow this was different. This was _Thomas_. Some mysterious missing teenager who Newt _still didn’t know a damn thing about_.

So he remembered the reason why he charged back into his room in the first place. He remembered the ice-cold daggers in his throat, hurling them without hesitation at the sniveling brunette curled up on his bed. He remembered telling him to leave, cursing him and his problems in the process. He remembered seeing the teen up and leave from his room without much hesitation, leaving a trace of despair behind him as he went.

He remembered lying down on his bed, nuzzling in his pillows and screaming until he lost his voice.

At least, that’s how Newt remembered it. So why was the brunette laid against his tear-drenched chest, breathing in a soft rhythm against the beat of his heart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I actually never intended for this story to go for as long as it has, which is why it's taking so long. But I hope it'll be worth it in the end.  
> A reminder that _all_ of this is non-beta'd and is still a massive WIP, so some things may seem temporarily out of place. If you feel the need to bring said things up, however, _please_ don't be afraid to let me know!!
> 
> I hope the title change isn't too much of a throw-off, either, but I felt that it had to be done. I feel like it reflects on the story more accurately, especially in the direction I've been taking it.  
> Thank you all so much to those of you who keep the support coming in for this work! You all know who you are <3


End file.
